


Ticking Timebomb

by brokenspell77



Category: WWE
Genre: M/M, Slash, WWE - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 02:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9471737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenspell77/pseuds/brokenspell77
Summary: Dean's anger at his placing and booking in the WWE was threatening to explode after months and months of pent up frustration. After a disappointing WrestleMania he's offered an unconventional method to help him by his friend and mentor William Regal who has watched the man get increasingly close to losing control. Will Dean take up Regal's offer? WARNING: Explicit slash/swearing.





	1. Frustration

Frustration. That was it. Pure and simple. Frustration. Dean Ambrose was normally a laid back kind of man, happy to see where the world takes him like a leaf meandering on the current of a river. Care free that was Dean Ambrose. However the most prevalent emotion inside of him lately had been frustration. That frustration had been building over time, months and months passed and that frustration then had a friend for company; anger.

Dean tried to put a brave face on, slap a smile on his face for interviews and for the fans who clamour to see him, or the fans who wait in the rain just to get a picture or autograph from him, but bubbling and simmering just under the surface of the thinly veiled facade that he was projecting out to the world was a rage that was becoming more and more ominous with every passing day.

He had tried to calm down. The scarce days WWE superstars actually get to spend at home he tried to rid himself of the frustration and anger. His usual decompressing activity was running and hiking through the Vegas desert, but both emotions didn't buckle. He became acquainted to many bottles of beer and whiskey, yet that only gave him brief periods of relief. As soon as the morning was ushered in he would awake and the tight ball of anger rushed back into his conscious and it usually brought the mother of all hangovers with it. He tried to exercise it out in the gym. Punishing and exhausting his body willing for it all to vanish, but it never faded away, never regressed, only increased, only became more dangerous.

Some would interpret Dean's anger and frustration as jealousy, but Dean didn't believe that. He was envious, but he wasn't jealous. There was a difference! He was proud of Roman and Seth for their meteoric rise in the WWE. He just hated that he was left behind in the dust. He loathed that he was an afterthought to the powers that be; Vince, Steph, Hunter, they all looked down on him. From the moment he was signed he knew he would face an uphill battle. He would have to follow in the footsteps of a man like CM Punk. He got nothing easily. He had to battle for every little thing in that damn company and just like Punk he wasn't their prototypical WWE superstar. He didn't have the right look, he didn't have the hulking muscles or the stereotypical good looks. He wasn't a pretty boy. 

He knew he would even have to scratch and claw to even make it to the main roster. He did just that. He accomplished it. The Shield dominated WWE for 18 months. They had major feuds and storylines and did all that they could as a unit. They all had shown they were capable of being singles stars, yet when the inevitable split happened Dean was left in the dark. He was given no direction. Seth did, he was the sellout, the cocky, spoiled brat heel who was the Authority's hand picked star. And Roman he was being tipped to be the new face of the company. After all he had the exact look Vince got a hard on over. Dean however was the forgotten man. He was left to his own devices. So he immediately set himself a challenge to prove to management he should never be an after thought.

The Shield gear was ditched. In came the tank top and jeans, leather jackets and hoodies. New music and more emphasis on him being crazy and unpredictable. The crowd latched onto him. Despite not being anywhere near as pushed or spotlighted as his former stable mates he was the most over. He was the most popular. He got the loudest pops night in and night out. Hell, he even sold the most merchandise. He even outsold that idiot clown Cena and his bright ass shirts. But what did he get for all that hard work and accomplishments? Not a damn thing!

There the frustration was born. WWE gave him the tiniest opening, and he didn't just stick his foot in the door, he smashed through it and knocked the damn thing off its hinges. The parallels to CM Punk once more were not lost on him, and just like Punk WWE made it seem like they were strapping the rocket to his back giving him main events and high profile feuds, but in reality they had fastened a ball and chain to his ankle. It was a well established rule in the company you can only go as high as they allow and want you too. Never mind what the fans want. Never mind the money they could make if they pushed a man like Dean to the moon. If you aren't their chosen one you better believe they will bring you back down to the level they see and want you at.

So the losses piled up. SummerSlam, Hell in Cell, Survivor Series, TLC, damn Ambulance match on Raw. In no uncertain terms was he reminded that he was the odd man out of the Shield. He was the forgotten one. The one Vince and co saw nothing in. He wasn't a main event player.

The feud with Seth had been enjoyable mostly. At times he felt on top of the world. He and Seth were a focal point on Raw, closing a PPV, competing in an iconic match inside the Hell in a Cell. But at the end that was when he turned the corner into darkness. The first seed of frustration started to bloom. He lost to Seth in the blow off to their feud. It ended and he hadn't even gotten one victory over Seth. But he swallowed that bitter pill. He was moved into a new program. A fresh start he thought. Bray Wyatt was a unique superstar, one that Dean was excited to work with. He knew they could put on a great match, the verbal exchanges had the potential to be massive, the storyline explosive. Instead it never got the attention and effort it deserved. Creative never gave them a reason, a back story and explanation as to why they were fighting. Bray had brought up his family, his past, yet that was swiftly dropped and forgotten about. And the matches? Loss after loss in the big matches against Bray too. Bullshit booking like a fucking exploding television screen and disqualification losses littered his career. The frustration had turned wild and it started to burn him up.

The Royal Rumble came and went. He felt as though he was there for all of two reasons at the end. One; to make up the numbers and two; to try and take some of the heat off of Roman. It didn't work. He got cheered loudly, they were rooting for him, yet WWE's chosen one got relentlessly booed out of the building.

A ray of hope shone down though. He naively thought the feud with Barrett over the Intercontinental Championship would be a turning point, but Fastlane was another slap in the face. Another bullshit creative decision. Another ridiculous disqualification loss. The frustration intensified and he battled to keep a lid on it. He told himself WrestleMania was right around the corner, he was already in a feud, maybe his losing streak would end and his moment of glory would come on the biggest stage of them all. Then suddenly another guy was involved. And another. And another. And another. And another fucking guy! He knew plans were liable to change on the fly, but this stung. The ball of rage was awake, it raged and it rattled around his body day and night. He watched his WrestleMania feud, his storyline, his championship win disappear and be handed to another. He saw Bryan bathe in the Californian sunshine, the heat beating down on him and the gold glimmer in the light as he held the title over his head perched high on a ladder. Daniel Bryan walked out with everything he should have had that night.

And what did he get? He got given the high spot. The holy shit moment of the match. He got powerbombed through a damn ladder and as an extra present got cut open and staples in the back of his head. As the trainers finished up he knew he was struggling. He needed an outlet for the building fury because sooner rather than later it would explode out of him and that wouldn't be good for him and it sure as hell wouldn't be good for anyone near him. He was seething. His fist clenched so hard his knuckles were white. Gritted teeth and tight muscles trying desperately to contain his fury.

'How are you?' A familiar English accent sounded.

Dean looked up, his pent up frustration swelling and swelling, but falling into the background momentarily as he took notice of the man who had entered the trainers room. William Regal. 'Fan-fucking-tastic.'

'That looked like a nasty spill.' Regal commented, he had winced the moment Dean had taken that bump.

'Got my WrestleMania moment though, didn't I?' Dean spat out bitterly. He was sick of WWE booking him in these outlandish crazy ways. He understood he was a loose canon, always unstable, but why was there a constant stream of bullshit? His envious side was all the more apparent that night. Fucking Roman got to win the Royal Rumble and main event WrestleMania. Seth cashed in and walked away from that main event as the new WWE World Heavyweight Champion, but nope Dean Ambrose got absolutely nothing! Hell, maybe it wasn't just envy anymore. Maybe the green eyed monster was now a full on jealous demon.

'I can see it, you know.'

'See what?' Dean snapped. His temper was reaching a breaking point. It was threatening to boil over. He didn't want to converse, he didn't want to be around anyone. He wanted solitude. He wanted to scream and yell and break things with only his misery and temper for company. He wanted to tear everything apart.

'I can see the frustration in you. I can see it in your eyes. In the way you move. From the sound of your voice. And I don't blame you quite frankly if I was in your shoes I'd feel the same way.'

'Thanks. Got any other pearls of wisdom?' He spat out angrily. Dean knew Regal meant well, in another time and place he may have appreciated Regal coming to him, but confronting him in his current state of mind was not wise. He was playing with fire, and the fire was coming from a starving dragon.

'Dean, I can see the anger building in you. I can see the disappointment and I get it. You deserve so much more, but don't let it get you down. Your time will come.'

Dean scoffed and shook his head bitterly. 'Like it did for Punk right? And Bryan? For you?'

Dean saw the ire rise in Regal at the cheap shot and he knew he shouldn't be lashing out at Regal, he wasn't to blame. In fact he owed Regal so much. Ever since he had met Regal he had been a mentor, someone he could go to for advice or just to hear his valued opinions. Dean had a ton of respect for Regal. He was a tough son of a bitch. He knew more about wrestling than most of the current roster put together. In all of his career, out of all his opponents William Regal would be right at the top of Dean's list of people he enjoyed working with. When they had there infamous feud in FCW Dean was a sponge. He soaked in every knowledgeable word that Regal saw fit to impart. He had learnt more from Regal in that time span than he had before in his entire career up to that point. Regal taught him the minor things that so many wrestlers overlook, but those minor things turn a good worker into a great worker and Dean had never forgotten all that Regal had done for him. He had a lot to be thankful for to the English Villain.

Regal's tone was lower, a dangerous harsh lilt to his voice. 'Watch your mouth, Dear Boy.'

Dean snarled, his fingers twitching, his temper flaring. He sure as hell didn't need to be patronised. He didn't need a pep talk. He just needed to be given some damn respect and decent booking. Hadn't he earned that?

'Punk got his moment. So did Bryan. Not all superstars end up like me. You won't end up like me, Dean. They can't ignore your talent, it's impossible.' Regal smiled fondly, thinking back on their feud on FCW. 'I couldn't ignore it. I saw it from the moment I first saw you in the ring. It just takes some people more time. Not everyone is as smart as me you know.'

Dean shook his head and huffed. 'You really believe Punk got all he deserved? That Bryan did? They both got screwed over time and time again. Pushed aside for Cena, and Orton, and Batista and Brock Lesnar. Or hell even that guy that married into the family would halt your momentum. I'm following in their footsteps Regal. I was the guy everyone was talking about, I was the one getting the biggest reaction night in and night out, I was the one who was delivering the best matches and promos week in and week out and it has gotten me nowhere!'

'My opinion means that little to you does it? Foley has sung your praises too. So has JR.'

'And I'm grateful, but it means shit when Vince and Hunter see nothing in me. They are the ones that pull the strings. They are the ones that choose to make you a star or hold you down.' Dean leaps off the chair and starts pacing. Frantic movements in his arms and hands, it was as if electric shocks were running through his body. Fists were clenched and pounded on the chair and then tore through medical supplies on the counter. They scattered all over the floor as his fury started to unleash.

Regal stepped into his space. Stopping him in his tracks. 'You have got to find an outlet for this rage. Snapping here, raging at the people in charge will get you nowhere! They'll just push your buttons all the more. You need something, someway to get it out. You can't keep it inside, you can't let it build anymore, Dean.'

'I've fucking tried!' Dean yells, his face turning red as the anger turned red hot. 'Nothing fucking works!'

Regal grasped his shoulders and Dean fought their grip, shrugged his shoulders free, but William was tenacious and held him firmly in place. 'Then you're looking in the wrong places.'

'Well you tell me where to look then.'

Regal thought for a moment. An idea formulated, yet he was reticent to offer it. Dean needed to let go. To be dragged out of his body, to give him respite, to let the anger fade before piecing him back together again. 'I have a proposition for you.' 

Dean looks at him. Blue eyes shining, the anger blaring darkly in them and Regal knows he has to at least try. He is hesitant. Dean would likely refuse. He wouldn't be at all surprised for Dean's anger to fully explode at the mere notion and he would bare the brunt of it, but he had to try something. He looked at Dean as his protege in a way. He had mentored him, was a constant sounding board for Dean's ideas, a support system and now more than ever Dean needed support. 

'You need to let go.'

'If I let go I'll do something I regret. Probably wind up getting fired.' Dean grumbled as he barged past Regal and commenced with his pacing. His body could rarely keep still. Something was usually in motion. He was always told that he had way too much energy, never resting like a fly caught in a glass and when angry all those ticks and jerky movements intensified.

'You need to let me take control.' Regal finally stated and Dean actually stopped dead.

'What do you mean?' Dean's brow creased, he felt his stomach twist and the knot pull tighter.

'You know what I mean.'

Regal couldn't possibly mean...he wasn't seriously implying...Dean shook his head and ran his hands through his sweat soaked mess of hair. 'You're saying that you wanna...'

'You know what I'm saying.' Regal reached inside his jacket pocket producing a hotel room key. He placed it in Dean's hand. 'Think about it, Dean. You need to do something.'

'Not that!' Dean snarled the ball of fury building at the mere thought of having any kind of sexual contact with a man. He wasn't interested. Not at all. His mind was an absolute muddle, how the fuck could that ever help him?

Regal scoffed and chuckled and Dean narrowed his eyes angrily at his nonchalance. The man had just propositioned him and was acting as if it was an every day kind of conversation between them. 'Nothing else has worked has it?'

Dean looked down at his hands, the key card staring up at him. He swallowed deeply, he had nothing to say. He didn't know what to say anymore. He couldn't look up at Regal.

'Like I said, think about it.'

As suddenly as he arrived Regal left. Dean turned the room key over and over in his hand. Tapping the plastic against his palm. Bending it back and forth until it nearly snapped within his clutches. He chewed at his lips and rolled his head from side to side. The anger was more intense than ever, he was struggling to keep a handle on it. Battling to keep it locked up and for it not to detonate. Regal may have been looking to help, but the rage inside of Dean was now seeping from every pour. The storm had rolled in and all that surrounded Dean was darkness. 

Time ticked down, the bomb closer to exploding.

...........................

Regal was reading. The clock ticking past two am. He wasn't shocked by Ambrose not showing. He could see Dean's head spin the moment he made his suggestion. Dean likely had questions piling up in his head. He probably questioned their friendship now, and Regal had the early signs of regret nipping away at him. He then heard the faint sound of footsteps. A shuffling outside and then he saw something slide under the hotel room door. He placed his book on the nightstand and went over to the door. As he crouched to retrieve it he saw it was his spare room key and a clear decline from Dean Ambrose. 

Regal felt no disappointment. The offer was never about him. It was about Dean. He just hoped the man found some kind of answer to his problems. And soon.

................................

Dean stared up at the lights. Sweat was pouring off his body. He was panting and gasping. His skin was hot and he was on the brink of finally snapping. Teetering on the edge of his breaking point.

The night after WrestleMania and another loss. This time to the walking cartoon Cena who could barely wrestle his way out of a wet paper bag. He was sick of it. Sick of being stuck in nothing feuds with no direction. Sick of being thought of as the weak member of the Shield. Sick of being so far back in their shadow.

He needed to do something to extinguish the fury. Nothing had worked, all his usual activities that quelled any emotions failed. He had only two options available to him now. Let it take him over. Let himself and the rage ruin his career and the life in the WWE that he had strived and work so hard to get for all those years. Or he could...

He didn't even know the details of Regal's suggestion. He simply flatly refused. He had no desire to be with a man. Never had. Never will. The thought of being intimate with another man made him shudder. Not that he had any problem with homosexuality it just wasn't something that had ever appealed to him. Neither had it appealed to Regal as far as he knew. Which made the offer all the more perplexing. Unless he didn't know Regal as well as he thought he did.

He had wanted to know more about Regal and his proposition. Questions had built up over the last 24 hours and he wanted to seek out the answers, but to do so he would have to talk to Regal and he didn't want him to get the wrong impression and think he had taken up the offer.

'Think about it, Dean. You need to do something.'

'Nothing else has worked has it?'

'Like I said, think about it.'

Dean had saw William from afar briefly before the start of Raw, but he had no idea if he was still in the building. Hell, if he was even still in the city. William would be back in Florida soon, back with the NXT crew. If he wanted answers he would have to bite the bullet now.

He scrolled through his contacts and found Regal's number, thumb hovering over the call button. A million thoughts flashed through his mind, his stomach twisting and lurching. Then the anger pulsed fast through his veins and the dark thoughts roared in his mind. A timely reminder of why he was even contemplating this. He hit the call button and waited.

'Hello?'

.........................


	2. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's anger at his placing and booking in the WWE was threatening to explode after months and months of pent up frustration. After a disappointing WrestleMania he's offered an unconventional method to help him by his friend and mentor William Regal who has watched the man get increasingly close to losing control. Will Dean take up Regal's offer? WARNING: Explicit slash/swearing.

William sat on the hotel bed staring at his cell waiting for Dean to cancel. He might just not show. He had been the one to make the offer, yet he was anxious over what Dean truly wanted tonight. Did he want to simply talk about the offer and not act upon it? One thing was for certain Dean still hadn't found an outlet for his rage in the last 24 hours. From just their brief telephone conversation William could still hear the aggression and temper in Dean's gravelled tone.

He couldn't blame Dean for being frustrated. The passion he had for this business was incredible. He ate, slept and breathed wrestling. He had honed his craft. He had more than proved his worth and he was getting no reward for all his efforts. It frustrated Regal to see Dean floundering and directionless in the midcard, so it came as no surprise to see the anger build inside the man himself.

Many were close to Dean Ambrose, but Regal prided himself on being better than most at reading him. Very early on he recognised the birth of Dean's anger. The loss to Seth Rollins at Hell in a Cell at the end of their rivalry was the catalyst. He had seen it build and swell out of control, Dean was barely holding on lately and he desperately needed an outlet.

And so he made the man an offer. 

He could see Dean needed to let go of the anger and frustration, to release it from his body, but he couldn't let Dean do that in a violent or aggressive manner. He had too much to lose. So he offered to take control. To take control away from him, to give Dean something he had never had before. He wondered if he had spooked the man, it clearly affected him from the dismissive way their conversation ended in the trainers room backstage at WrestleMania. But now 24 hours later Dean had contacted him, asked him if he was still San Jose and where he was staying. 

And now Dean was on his way.

There was a knock on the door. Not a persistent or loud knock by anyone's standards,but one that could be clearly heard. William opened the door and Dean stood there intense eyes that looked desperate for some rest. He looked as though he hadn't slept for days. Untamed hair wild upon his head, still slightly damp and scruff on his cheeks and jaw. He looked uncharacteristically nervous and unsure. Steps full of trepidation as he moved into the room as Regal held the door open for him. His eyes were darting around the room, his shoulders tense and feet moving restlessly. 

'Would you like a drink?' Regal asked trying to ease some of the awkward tension that had instantly arisen between them. He hoped that somehow that they'd be able to converse with ease as they had for years, but the offer hanging over their heads weighed heavily.

Dean shook his head.

William approached a hand on Dean's shoulder that was swiftly shrugged off and Dean moved a few paces. 'Still haven't found a suitable outlet, Dear Boy?'

Dean head whipped around, wild hair becoming even more tangled and standing up at all angles. He didn't need Regal to be patronising, he just needed him to...he didn't even know. He didn't even know why he was there. He didn't know why he even contacted the man at all. It was a stupid decision, one that Dean was already regretting.

Regal gestured for him to sit down on the couch before disappearing into the kitchen area. He returned quickly with a beer that he handed to Dean and sat on the couch beside him. Dean took a big gulp of beer, met Regal's gaze and then took another. 

'Why did you call me, Mr. Ambrose?' William prodded trying to get some kind of inkling of Dean's intentions. However Dean remained silent just downing more beer. 'I can still see all that built up rage and frustration boiling just beneath the surface. Does your woman not alleviate any of that stress?'

Angry eyes narrowed at Regal and he knew he was pushing Dean's buttons. Although he had a feeling it wouldn't take a lot to enrage Dean in his current state and that was a perfect reminder of why he was doing this in the first place.

'Surely she must have seen the difference in you over the last few months?' William was poking the beast and he was waiting for it to snap. He had a feeling he had to get Dean to break apart before putting him back together again. There was no way he'd give in, no way he would show weakness, he was too proud, to fiercely independent to allow that. 'Is there nothing she could do?'

Dean polished off the bottle of beer quickly. He couldn't maintain eye contact with Regal, the awkward tension between them was smothering. 'I tried that...with her. It didn't work.'

Regal hmmed his understanding and stood from the couch taking Dean's empty bottle with him and replacing it with a full one. Dean took another mouthful of alcohol feeling an ever so slight easement. 'So you've decided on alternative options?'

Dean shrugged once more.

'For a man that is usually so eloquent you seem to be lacking somewhat in that area tonight, Mr. Ambrose.'

'Don't fucking patronise me.' Dean snarled.

Regal merely chuckled. 'And there it is. That short fuse that could be lit at any moment. Do you realise how dangerous that is? If this isn't dealt with you could blow up at the wrong person and you can kiss your career goodbye.'

Dean bitterly scoffed. 'Why would that matter? It ain't like I got much to lose right now. I'm a fucking after thought to those cunts!' Dean threw his head back and necked the rest of the beer that was still half full.

'You should take it easy.' Regal advised as two bottles of beer were consumed in a quick fashion.

'You aren't my keeper.'

Dean held out the empty bottle and Regal relented quickly bringing back another. He hadn't wanted to get the man drunk, but it certainly seemed that the night had veered off in that direction and Regal knew he had to steer them back on track. 'So if I may circle back to an earlier inquiry, why did you call me tonight?' 

'Wanted to know what the fuck you meant the other night?'

Regal sat back on the couch. Now they were getting somewhere. 'What did you think I meant?'

'Don't fuck around with me, I asked the damn question so answer it.' Dean's voice had that intense gravelly tone to it, one that become more prominent when angered and Regal could sense that the frustration was swelling and the incoming tide would finally drown Dean.

'I think you knew exactly what I meant last night.' Regal looked to Dean, the man was hunched over, still in his leather jacket and nervously picking at the damp label on the bottle in his hands. 'You know what I mean right now don't you, Mr. Ambrose?'

Dean drank more beer, Regal assumed that was a declination to answer. He watched as the liquid within the brown bottle disappeared at an equally alarmingly rate as the first two. He figured Dean would ask for another soon and got up and retrieved two more. Sure enough Dean moved onto his forth in quick succession.

'I can only assume you came here to accept that offer.' Regal waited and waited, yet Dean didn't deviate from his routine; drink, pick at the label, tap his feet restlessly, keep his eyes on the floor, drink. 'You need something and you're at your wits end and have come to me as your last hope. Haven't you?'

'I'm not gay.' Dean mumbled, it wasn't full of hate. He had no issues with that lifestyle whatsoever, he was just dumbfounded and confused by even thinking of this option. He was a ladies man through and through and yet having sex with his girl didn't mollify his temper. In fact it just increased it due to not making it vanish. It was a vicious circle. Every possible outlet he tried had failed, and with every new failure the rage only tightened its hold over him.

'No one said you were, Dear Boy.' Regal smiled as he took the forth empty bottle of beer. He was sure that particular beverage was downed a lot quicker than the rest. He attributed that to the intense build in the subject matter being conversed. He was pushing Dean now he knew that. And so did Dean. 'But you are here, knowing full well what that would lead me to assume.'

Dean gulped more beer down and Regal made a mental note to officially cut him off at five. Pretty soon Dean would be edging toward being drunk and Regal had no intentions of taking things further with Dean in that state. Besides Dean needed to be alert. To be aware. Needed to realise exactly what could happen when he let go of control, and let his anger and frustration out in alternative ways. He needed Dean to know he always had an escape. An unconventional method it may be, but he couldn't allow his protege to throw so much potential away. He was a star. He belonged at the top of WWE, that wouldn't happen if he detonated at the wrong time and place.

'You need to let go, Dean. I can help with that.' Regal reached out and placed a hand on Dean's jean clad thigh.

Dean's eyes snapped toward the touch, he simply stared at Regal's hand resting on his body, a look of contemplation crossing his features. Every thing stilled. No sound. No movement. Then suddenly he stood and Regal watched as his shoulders wiggled and his hands clenched and released over and over. His head rolled from side to side and then he ran his hands over his face. 'I need a piss.'

Regal watched the man disappear toward the bathroom and a few seconds later heard the door slam shut. He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his shirt sleeves, he knew this would be no easy feat, but he knew that Dean was a ticking timebomb and if the explosion happened at the wrong time, in the wrong moment, with the wrong people Dean and his career could be in major trouble. Regal would and could not allow that. He had to perform a controlled explosion on Dean and he felt as though he was nearing that critical juncture.

The man returned quietly, his body moving without the usual swagger. He looked dejected and damn tired. Regal stepped closer to him and removed his leather jacket. More importantly Dean let him. He guided Dean over to the bed, but Dean made a hasty change in direction. Regal was inclined to curse, but he saw Dean snatch his half full beer bottle and walk back toward the bed on his own volition. Regal smiled warmly, he may not be able to vocalise it, but Dean had made his intentions clear that night. He was at the end of his rope and he would try anything to rid himself of this fury.

They perched on the edge, bottle still in Dean's grasp another mouthful of beer swallowed. Regal was unsure of his next move, he toyed with idea of making a move, but he felt he needed Dean to explode before he'd allow himself to give in. He decided to push Dean to talk a little more. 'So are you going to tell me why I am the recipient of this late night visit, Mr. Ambrose?'

'You know why.' Dean murmured, his attention more on the beer bottle. Regal knew full well the bottle was a stalling tactic and the quickest way to get around it was to remove it. He snatched the bottle and set it on the bedside cabinet. 'Give me my fucking beer.'

'Why? So you can get drunk and go through with this?' Regal asked rhetorically. He knew full well Dean had seen the alcohol as way to go through with this, he used it as a shield, an excuse, something he could blame for allowing himself to give in. Regal was determined to not allow him that. 'Being drunk for the duration won't help you. You need to be coherent, you need to be aware, you need to release it all. It's the only way this will work. Nothing else has has it?'

Dean snapped then and took a rough hold of Regal's shirt and snarled in his face. 'I've fucking tried. Are you dumb? Are you deaf? I told you I've tried and nothing fucking works! You get that?! Huh?!'

Regal didn't react to the outburst. Just simply stared back into lost blue eyes. Now more than ever he was sure of his actions, that this was a necessary decision. He gently took hold of Dean's wrists and slowly they loosened their grip and Dean's head fell into his hands. 'It's okay, Dean.' He rubbed a hand over the mans back and finally he moved onto the next phase.

Quietly he shifted to the floor on his knees undoing the laces on Dean's combat boots. He looked up and met Dean's gaze. They held each other there as Regal removed one boot and then the other. Socks quickly joining them. Regal stood directly in front of him and Dean turned his head away, his focus honed in on the damn beer bottle sitting idly by on the cabinet. He wanted to reach out for it, to down it's remnants. The beer had been a safety blanket for him that night and now with it removed he was feeling vulnerable. A state Dean was unfamiliar with in his adult years.

The zip on his hoodie slowly crept open and the article of clothing was tossed aside, joining his leather jacket on the couch. Regal sat beside him once more and the same hand that had been placed on his thigh before returned. Dean still wanted to bolt, he wasn't nearly drunk enough for this, but somewhere in the darkest recesses of his mind Regal's words made perfect sense; he needed to be sober enough for this to work. 

How could he expect it to work if he couldn't even remember a single moment of it?

Regal leant in close and Dean's eyes slipped shut as lips caressed his jaw and neck. He swallowed the lump in his throat and flexed his fingers as they sat trembling in his lap. A shiver ran through him as he heard a gentle whisper in his ear. 'Good boy.'

The facial hair on Dean's cheeks, jaw and neck was rough, but Regal continued his exploration and was relieved that Dean hadn't flinched or backed away. He was allowing this to happen,he was willing to try and again pride swelled inside of Regal at the lengths his protege would go to ensure a long and successful career. Regal knew he was on a tightrope and it was a fine line between coercing Dean and simply guiding him along to what would ultimately help him. Regal wanted that reassurance and he kissed up Dean's defined jaw and asked him if what he was doing was okay and he got a sharp and quick little nod in response. With any fear of pushing Dean too far vanishing, at least temporarily, Regal decided to kick it up a notch and worked his fingers under the fabric of Dean's tee-shirt. 'Arms up.'

Dean hesitated for a moment, but eventually raised his arms over his head and the cool air blowing in from the open window soothed the fire that had come over his skin. Dean felt uncomfortable, his body still rigid and unreactive, but he felt hot, sweating with nerves and his mouth had ran dry and he longed for the chilled beer to run down his throat some more.

Regal ran a palm over Dean's lightly haired chest, the difference in his physique was vast from the last time Regal had been in a position to touch him, albeit under very different circumstances. During their feud in FCW was when Regal really saw the star that was Dean Ambrose. Back then Dean was less defined, he was muscular enough, but now he was shredded. He looked good. He could hear Dean breathing, could see the restless legs bouncing in his peripheral. He kissed over Dean's chest and licked at a nipple before deciding on pressing forward. He knew he couldn't engage in too much foreplay, that would give Dean too much time to think, to give him too much time to change his mind and leave in a worse state than what he arrived in. 

Regal stood, took hold of Dean's hands and pulled him to his feet. Dean briefly made eye contact before flashing back to the beer. Regal looked over to the bottle and picked it back up and handed it back to Dean, but he didn't take even as much as a sip. He wondered if Dean had understood when he said he needed to be sober for this to work. Regal then made a bold move and unbuckled the mans belt. He saw Dean's eyes temporarily widen in recognition and his throat bob as he took in a deep breath. Deft fingers made short work of the belt, button and zipper and Regal crouched as he pulled Dean's jeans to his ankles. Without asking Dean raised one foot from the carpet floor and then the other as Regal took off his jeans. Regal looked up at the man and he couldn't blame Dean for taking a little sip of beer as it got more intense. Regal looked at Dean's body, stood in nothing but grey boxer briefs with a black waistband. He was a sight to behold. However, it was hard to ignore the lack of arousal coming from Dean. He was disappointed and hoped this entire exercise wouldn't be futile. He dreaded to think of the state Dean would be in if he allowed this to happen and it still didn't help him. 

Regal stomped on the uncertainty in his mind, and continued on. He licked a wet stripe from Dean's waistband up to his throat and nibbled at the adams apple that bobbed under his touch. He ran his hands up Dean's sides and he felt the shudder that ran through Dean. 'You still want this?' Dean barely nodded, but Regal accepted it. 'What about this?' Regal asked as he nodded down to the beer bottle still untouched in Dean's grasp. Dean took a small swig, more for his dry throat than intoxication, and then handed it over to Regal. 'You're doing well, Dear Boy.'

Dean's brow creased, never one to like being called boy. He always found it to be patronising. He did initially when Regal called him it that night, but now he wasn't finding it all that terrible. Almost comforting. Regal jutted his head to the bed, and now his nerves frayed. He wasn't sure what came next or what Regal wanted exactly. He needed his guidance.

Dean turned back to him and Regal smiled fondly at the look of confusion, uncertainty, and nervousness coming from the usually confident and self assured man. Regal put Dean out of his misery and told him to lay on his stomach. Again Dean hesitated, but slowly crawled onto the bed and led down. He fidgeted restlessly, but finally settled and then Regal kneeled beside him. He felt Dean flinch as his hands rippled over his shoulders and back. Regal could feel the tension, all the knots in his muscles, Dean was wound so tight after months and months of pent up anger. He increased the pressure in his ministrations and slowly he felt Dean start to relax, his body slipping further into the mattress and bed sheets beneath.

From his neck down to the bottom his spine Regal massaged Dean and he smirked as he heard faint little sighs of relief coming from Dean. He had his eyes closed and his head rested on folded arms. He looked like the picture of relaxation, but Regal still knew that just beneath the surface all that ire still lingered like a volcano on the verge of eruption. He moved further down the bed and spread Dean's legs. He watched for any sign of reluctance from Dean, but he didn't stir. Regal rubbed Dean's legs, from ankle to thigh, he could feel a slight tensing in Dean's limbs every time he reached his upper thigh though and Regal relented every time and travelled back lower.

Eventually though the time came. Regal moved his palms back up to Dean's back before sliding down to his waist. Fingers dipping below the waistband before running up his spine once more. Like a teasing circuit Regal repeated the action again and again, dipping a little lower each time until he finally hooked his fingers in the waistband and tugged them lower exposing Dean's ass. 

Dean's head shot up and he looked back over his shoulder at Regal. He knew what was expected, he wasn't stupid, but it still took him by surprise and he couldn't hide his natural instincts. 'What...'

'Sssh...' Regal soothed as he let the waistband rest just below the swell of Dean's ass. 'I've been right this far haven't I?'

Dean couldn't argue with that. He faintly nodded and slowly rested his head back down on his arms. His heart started to pound in his chest and he slammed his eyes shut. Regal didn't push him just slowly restarted his massage. First on his shoulders and back slipping lower and lower until both cheeks were being gripped by strong hands. Dean couldn't say it was unpleasant so he took another deep breath and let Regal take control.

Regal was surprised at the flesh beneath his palms. Dean's ass was firm and round, and he thought it was wasted within those jeans he wore week in and week out in the ring. Regal tried not to go to fast, but when touching Dean more intimately he was dangerously close to losing his own control. He spread Dean's cheeks and when his tight pink hole came into vision Regal knew he couldn't hold back much longer. 

Regal's hands left his body and Dean waited with bated breath. It felt like an eternity before he felt something, but when it came his breath got lodged in his throat. A surprising warm, wet tongue licked along the crack of his ass. Dean's eyes widened and he hastily reached out for the pillow and buried his head in it as Regal's tongue licked around his entrance again and again. He felt his cheeks pulled further apart and Regal's tongue dab at his entrance with the apex of his tongue and then lick and suck at his hole. 

Laving in concentric circles, Regal's tongue swirled around his entrance, sometimes with the barest of touches, and then more forceful, pushing gently at the tight ring of muscle. The new experience wasn't unpleasant as he believed it would be, and it was a hard fact to accept. Regal's tongue ran lower, teasing his balls before travelling right back up the crack of his ass. Then all the attention stayed on his hole. Never getting a reprieve as Regal relentlessly flicked his tongue whilst still holding him open clutching both his cheeks. Dean buried his head in the pillow, breathing into it, as his eyes fell closed. His mind was so focused on what he was allowing to happen, the conflict in his brain of the new foreign pleasure, that the rage was disappearing into mere background noise.

Regal lapped at Dean's pucker, pleased to see the man not pulling away or changing his mind. He thought there was a distinct possibility that Dean would bolt the moment he pushed him into new, never previously experienced avenues, but he was still there, admittedly not giving much away, not showing any sign of enjoyment, but it was better than Regal imagined he would react. With than in mind he decided to push a little further. As he licked a wet stripe from Dean's taint back to his hole and concentrated there with dabs and flicks he added more pressure and with the apex of his tongue he pushed inside ever so slightly. Dean jolted, yet remained immobile. Regal knew Dean's mind must've been a muddle, a jumble of thoughts and asking himself what the hell he was doing and that just affirmed for Regal that he needed to show Dean exactly what he could do for him. That he could release all that tension, to let go of the frustration and anger. And hopefully he would actually find some enjoyment in the deal too.

'You okay, Mr Ambrose?' William asked as he stretched over the prone man, but Dean gave no answer, he just saw him with his head buried in the pillow.

He proceeded downward and licked and kissed the bottom of Dean's spine as it softly turned into the curve of his ass, he spread Dean open again, exposing his hole which contracted under his gaze, a clear sign of Dean's nerves yet remarkably the rest of Dean showed no outward signs of anxiety or regret thus far. He brushed his tongue back over Dean's now slick hole and tongued it hungrily, sucking and lapping and pushing his tongue through the tight ring of muscle and he heard the faintest grunt from Dean and his body jolted once again. Regal didn't relent this time, he pushed back in and started fucking Dean with his tongue.

Dean couldn't help more grunts escaping him and he hoped that they weren't audible to Regal's ears. He also hoped Regal would keep the conversation to a minimum, he couldn't bring himself to answer when Regal had asked him how he was doing, he was barely keeping his head together as it was. He was still not comfortable in the knowledge that he was willingly engaging in this, that he had resorted to this, but surprisingly he was finding the experience not all that bad. He breathed deeply into the pillow, his warm breath bringing moisture to the fabric. It was warm against his face and he felt like he was struggling to breathe as Regal kept rimming him. He needed oxygen and finally turned his head. His vision instantly locking onto his abandoned beer. Then Regal pushed and he felt himself stretch further and he couldn't stifle the moan that dripped from his lips at the feeling. His eyes slipped shut and he couldn't stop his body from pushing back against the source of pleasure.

Finally Regal thought as he heard Dean give in to the sensations he was inflicting upon his body, at least he was enjoying it somewhat. And then he was pushing back ever so slightly, chasing his tongue for more. 'Turn over.' Dean didn't move and he wondered if the man was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't hear him. He stroked his flank and leant over him, catching Dean's hazy eyes. 'Dean, turn over?'

Regal pulled away giving the man space. Dean slowly rose, his skin flushed and with a look of reluctance he rotated onto his back. He collapsed back into the pillows strewn along the headboard and threw an arm over his face. That was when Regal connected the dots and understood the reluctance. The obvious tent in Dean's underwear showed just how much the man was enjoying himself. A full and thick erection clearly visible that was leaking so much precum a sizeable wet spot had formed on the front of his boxers. 

'Enjoying yourself, Mr Ambrose?' Regal smiled as he took a rough hold of the waistband immediately setting Dean's dick free as it slapped hard off his abdomen and tossed Dean's underwear to the floor. 'All hard and wet for me.' Now that he had the man led out completely bare before him he realised what a gorgeous specimen Dean Ambrose truly was. His cock was so hard, twitching and slick with precum that was already oozing more onto his stomach, his balls tight and his thigh's splayed. He was quite the sight.

Regal ran his tongue from Dean's sack up to the wet purple head and he couldn't hide the smile as he heard the hiss come from Dean's lips and the undulation of his hips as he tongued the slit. He was breaking Dean down, taking him out of his own head, the tension being expunged from his muscles and mind like water being squeezed from a sponge. His body was pliant and relaxed sinking into the mattress. He licked around the crown of Dean's swollen dick before sucking on the head letting it go with a wet pop again and again and every time Dean would push his hips into the air chasing for more of the same.

More of Dean's length went past Regal's lips and the arch in Dean's spine was beautiful as he let out what resembled a growl of appreciation. His toes curling and his hands fisting the sheets. Regal wet a digit and then swirled it around Dean's already wet entrance. Teasing with subtle pushes that Dean didn't object to and Regal saw that as a green light and finally pushed inside, passed the tight ring of muscle and the hot snug channel it sunk into was maddening. Dean let out a low rumble which Regal thought sounded like an awed 'fuck.' He sucked gently on Dean's balls, one at a time, before licking a wet strip up the prominent vein before taking Dean into his mouth with fervor. Setting a brisk pace he took as much of Dean's dick as he was comfortable with and used his free hand to roll Dean's tight sack within his palm.

Dean's restless nature seemed to extend toward the bedroom as well as he writhed and twitched and shifted as the pleasure intensified and he was buffeted between sensations as Regal's mouth worked on his dick and another finger was pushed inside of him, the tight walls clenching around the digits before relaxing and letting Regal push them in harder and faster and stretch him. Then out of nowhere he saw stars and an embarrassingly loud and drawn out moan that took seconds to realise actually emanated from him came from deep within as Regal touched and focused on a part of his body previously unexplored.

'I think you're definitely enjoying yourself now, don't you Mr. Ambrose?' Regal smiled a she breathed hotly over Dean's slick cock. He pushed back inside of Dean's heat, targeting his prostate and with precision he hit it and was rewarded with another delectable and dirty moan from Dean. The man's body arched higher than before and wantonly chased Regal's fingers as they pulled out wanting to experience that feeling again and again. Regal couldn't help but oblige and pushed back in. Dean whined and thrashed and bunched the sheets up in his fists as over and over Regal found his spot. 

'Turn back over?' Regal didn't demand, still keeping Dean's needs and wants at the forefront of his mind. Trying to keep his desires at bay and focus on the man naked, panting and sweating beneath him. This was about him. It had always been about him.

Dean replied to the question with a quick answer now, scrambling to turn over onto his elbows and knees, so lost in arousal and pleasure that he didn't care if he looked desperate. It had been so long since he had such respite from his anger and rage and he wanted more, wanted it to vanish and to disintegrate bit by bit.

Regal ran soothing hands down Ambrose's sides before parting his cheeks and blowing over Dean's stretched and wet hole. Regal rimmed Dean some more, his tongue now plunging deeper now that Dean was stretched further. Dean's moans were muffled by the pillow he was breathing into, but he rocked and pushed his ass back against Regal's face.

'Do you want more, Mr. Ambrose?'

'Uh...' Dean buried his head further into the pillows, turning his already unkempt hair into more of damp mess before turning his head and catching Regal's eyes as he was folded over his back placing kisses along his shoulder blades. The rage was now a distant buzzing drifting further and further away and being replaced by pleasure he couldn't wrap his head around, but his body was revelling in. Such new sensations were overwhelming, but his body was on a high, he had trusted Regal thus far and with the tiniest nod of his head he agreed to more. It was hard to reconcile within his own dazed head that he was enjoying what Regal was doing to his body and that he wanted more. But he wasn't about denying truths, and in the hardest of situations he let honesty reign.

For agonising seconds he felt nothing. Ears pricking up and hearing the distant sounds of clothes rustling, Regal moving around the bed, a draw opening and closing. Then finally a slick finger ran around his entrance and pushed ever so slightly inside. He looked back over his shoulder and took in Regal's naked form, the hard dick slick with lube and he couldn't quell the shiver that ran down his spine, and the way his body tensed with trepidation, yet his dick pulsed and precum dripped from the slit to the bed sheets below with pure exhilarated excitement. 

Then all sounds dissolved into touch. He felt the thick head of Regal's cock at his entrance. Then there was pressure. A decisive push. A stinging pain and then he felt Regal slowly slip inside of him. His mouth was agape, no sound coming out apart from a rush of air as he breathed through the penetration. His eyes closed and he breathed hard and hot into the pillow he had in a death grip as he felt Regal sink in deeper and deeper. It felt like such a slow process, but when he finally felt Regal's body flush against his he let out an awed sigh. The feeling was so against the norm of what he associated with sex, he felt so full, so connected, riding a massive wave of sexual discovery. It was a foreign feeling, yet not unwelcome and that messed with his head as the aroused daze he had settled in once Regal had gotten him naked dissipated and he realised he really was being fucked by a man. He was willingly letting himself be fucked by a man. That he wanted that. He wanted more. To truly experience what Regal could give him.

Then Regal started to move and his world shifted and tilted and he was back into a mist of arousal as he felt Regal's dick pull almost all the way out and then surge back inside. He lost himself to the moment as he wantonly began to push back into Regal's slow and gentle thrusts. A silent demand to move faster and harder that Regal eagerly complied to and quickly set up a brisk and hard rhythm. Dean growled low in his throat and bit into the pillow as an explosion of colour encompassed his vision, Regal hitting that spot inside of him that made his toes curl and his body flutter with excitement. His knees slid further apart and his moans turned to almost whimpers as Regal fucked him harder, his own dick brushing the fabric of the sheets beneath him, his hands reached out for the headboard, his knuckles white and his teeth biting the pillow harder and harder. 

'What do you want, Mr.Ambrose?' William breathes into his neck as he rests his chest on Dean's back all the while driving his length into Dean's willing body. 'Tell me what you want, Dean.'

Dean's face is flushed, his pupils blown and he looks utterly wrecked as he gasps and grunts. Fuck, he had no idea. Didn't think for a second it would feel so good. That his body needed that. 'More...'

'More?' Regal cocks an eyebrow and his thrusts turn slower, gentler, softer. 

Dean mewls, a pathetic sound that he would never want to hear come from his lips, but he wanted more of that feeling, like his head was about to explode if he didn't get more of what his body yearned for. That his dick was painfully hard for. He felt so close. So close to a climax that would shake him to his core. He wanted it badly. Faster. Harder. 

'Tell me, Dean?'

'I want...' Dean faltered, pushing back against Regal trying to force him into fucking him harder and faster, gasping in air and then Regal touched his prostate and held himself there, fucking dragged along it and he lost any sense of shame or embarrassment and begged for what he knew he damn well wanted. 'Fuck me. I want you to fuck me!'

Before it even felt like the words had left him in a rush and jumble of syllables Dean felt Regal thrust hard, his body pushing him up the bed, and he quickly found himself pushing back off the hotel wall and hard back onto Regal's dick and fuck the pressure, the force, it was just fucking perfect. And he's gone. So fucking gone. Regal pounded into him hard and fast and he's a moaning incoherent mess, cursing and growling as Regal fucked his mind blank, the only thing in his conscious is the pleasure that had overtaken his entire being. His body humming from head to toe, his body hot and electrified. His dick slick, heavy and bobbing with every thrust. He felt so damn close and he reached underneath his body and fisted himself at a frenetic pace chasing the end that he knew would blow his damn mind.

'That's it, Dear Boy.' Regal purred in his ear. 'Let it all out.'

Dean turned his head, his eyes wide and vibrant and he pushed back against Regal even harder and more erratic and then into his fist and he's teetering with one foot over the edge. He slammed his head against the pillow, once, twice, thrice and then he lets out a loud, shuddering 'fuck, yes' and his vision goes a blinding white as he fell. His head sank into the pillow and he kept going, dragging out his orgasm for all it's worth and fuck it felt so damn good. Out of this world. 

The room filtered back into vision piece by piece and he arched his back and looked underneath his satiated body to see his dick still in his hand, his knuckles covered in cum and the sheets beneath an even worse state and he couldn't help the small smile. Regal's moans and harsh breaths then arrived at his ears and he could feel the thrusts lose rhythm and then he felt Regal reach his climax inside of him. A strange feeling, yet his dick gave an appreciative twitch as it slowly softened. He turned his head to the side and looked back over his shoulder at Regal. He felt Regal pull out and his ass had a strange empty feel to it now and he almost missed the intense fullness that was there before. He fell exhausted onto his stomach, landing straight in the mess he made without a care. Regal finally met his eyes and looked at him cautiously, a hint of panic in his mentors eyes.

Regal watched Dean flop onto his back, his half hard dick glistening with his cum that was also dotted over his abdomen and thighs. He looked thoroughly fucked, but he wasn't sure it did him any good. That was until Dean smirked at him, then full on smiled, dimples popping. A chuckle escaped Dean and a hand ran over his face, scooping his sweaty hair off his face.

'Damn!' Dean laughs in exultation, his naked body rocking.

'Feeling better then, Mr Ambrose?' Regal asks with relief, his concern fading as the smile remained firmly on Dean's face.

Dean palmed his now flaccid dick and nodded as he licked his own cum off his finger. 'Oh yeah, haven't felt this good in a long damn time.'

'I'm glad.' Regal replied, and he was. The ticking timebomb crisis was successfully averted. He had cut the correct wire just before the explosion erupted and caused irreparable devastation and destruction. 'I'm going to clean up.' Regal excused himself, letting Dean bask in the afterglow on his own and walked into the bathroom.

'Hey Regal, thanks.' Dean looked over at him before he disappeared, his arms folded behind his head, his body loose and tranquil.

Regal nodded before stepping into the bathroom. A few minutes later he peered inside the room expecting to see Dean either gone or preparing to, but instead Dean was still sprawled on the bed. His arms still under his head, his eyes closed and legs splayed. still naked and covered in cum, but looking as though he hadn't got a single care in the world. 

Exactly the way Dean Ambrose should be.

..........................


End file.
